


Slippery Slopes

by nauticalwarrior



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorder, Eating Disorders, Friendship, Gen, Purging, food trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalwarrior/pseuds/nauticalwarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once you get started, it's hard to stop. Kiku would like to think he's still able to stop, but he knows that's not the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slippery Slopes

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually a request that got out of hand! It was requested for my imagine blog here: http://hhhetalia-imagines.tumblr.com/
> 
> I don't know if this will have multiple chapters. Although it definitely could, I'm not sure I want to commit to more with everything else I'm working on.

Kiku has always been one for restraint. He simply prefers to keep careful control of himself, to not act out, to do everything as it should be done rather than messily, sloppily, lazily. He isn’t  _ shy _ ; he’s  _ reserved.  _ So whenever another nation might act out, might cause a fuss, Japan’s manifestation simply stays quiet and waits it out. No need to stir up trouble as long as nobody’s getting hurt, right?

 

So if Kiku is feeling a little unsure, a little upset, he wouldn’t tell anyone. No need to make a show out of every little insecurity, no need at all. Kiku glances down at his stomach and pinches the skin there gently. All those days spent with America sure had an effect; didn’t they? Kiku isn’t  _ fat; _ no, he’s just a little self-conscious. Ludwig’s concerned tone floats through his mind, reminding him of his high-sodium diet. He sighs. A little improvement in his dietary habits would be for the best. Just a little less food, a little less salt, and he’d be able to lose a few pounds and lower his blood pressure in one fell swoop. It wouldn’t have to be hard, and he can do it. After all, he’s got plenty of restraint in social situations. He can handle his eating if he wants to. Plus, it’ll make Ludwig and Feliciano happy.

 

Kiku nods, a small smile on his lips. No drastic tomato diet for him. This time, he plans to do things right. 

 

Getting up from the floor, he quietly makes his way into his bedroom. It’s dark, with only the light from his computer illuminating the room. Kiku slides into his chair (a gift from Alfred- quite comfortable too) and initiates a search for dieting. It doesn’t take Kiku long to find what he’s looking for- sensible, easy to follow advice. Some of the snippets don’t suit him, like avoiding soft drinks, fast food, and television. Honestly, he’s not a big fan of any of those to begin with, so there’s nothing to change in those areas. But some of the tips make a lot of sense, and these are what he writes down, scribbling in pen on a clean sheet of paper. 

 

Firstly, he will track everything he eats and find out the calorie content of each item. Secondly, he’ll aim for 1800 calories a day- low enough to lose weight, but not  _ too  _ fast. Kiku thinks for a second before writing another goal: sodium under 1500mg, to help with his blood pressure. Finally, he plans on getting at least 30 minutes of exercise a day. None of this seems too hard for Kiku, quite doable in fact, and he finds himself smiling as he looks forward to the days to come. However, he can’t start today- it’s far too late for that. Glancing at his clock, he sighs. It’s already midnight, so he should really head to bed. Kiku walks to the other side of the room and flops into bed, proud of himself.

 

* * *

 

 

When Kiku wakes up the next day, he’s thinking about diplomacy and his friends, not his diet. He hasn’t forgotten, of course; he just thinks it’s been a bit too long since he last met up with Ludwig. As he changes out of his pajamas into today’s clothing (a long sleeved, black shirt and jeans, bought during a trip to America), Japan thinks about last night’s plans. Today he’ll do a bit more research, just finding his BMI and things like that out, and then get started on his diet and exercise routine. He knows the basics already because he’s looked it up before, just never done anything with it. Finally, he’s going to stop being lazy. Then, maybe he could call Ludwig up and... No, that’s a bit bold. Kiku shakes his head and sits down at his computer. He wouldn’t want to impose or anything. 

 

It takes Kiku approximately five seconds to find a website that’ll calculate his BMI, but it requires his weight. Of course; he should have seen that coming. He walks the short distance to his small bathroom and steps onto his (usually unused) scale. It takes a moment, then displays a number that Kiku frowns at. 64.4 kilos? That can’t be right... (142 lbs)

 

Kiku shakes it off. This is why he’s starting this health kick, afterall. Trudging back into his room, he sighs. This is kind of overdue, isn’t it? When he types his height (165cm, 5’5’’) into the calculator, it spits 23.6 back at him. Kiku stares at his stomach, face blank. 23.6 is nearly overweight, isn’t it? He sighs again, a little frustrated huff of air. He  _ needs  _ to change that, and soon. It wouldn’t do for a man representing an entire  _ country  _ to be fat. Testing out a few new numbers, Kiku finds that if he lost 10 kilos, he’d be at a BMI of 20.0 exactly. That’s a nice even number, and so is 10. 54.4 kilos (120lbs) sounds a  _ lot  _ nicer, more attractive, than 64.4. There, he has a goal now. Now, to double check that he would be able to get there. 

 

He remembers another value he had read about the night before, BMR. Everything he had read urged him to eat at or slightly above that number in order to lose weight. After another moment of searching, Kiku finds that his BMR is 1627 calories, significantly less than his daily goal. 200 is a lot, right? Kiku frowns and bites his lips, mulling this new information over. He isn’t just fatter than he thought; he needs to eat less too. Kiku grabs his sheet of goals and scratches out 1800, writing 1500 instead. That’s still plenty realistic, and this way, Kiku would lose weight much faster. Sighing, the japanese man stands up and stretches. Why is this so  _ complicated?  _ It’s like the world  _ wants  _ him to be fat forever. No use stressing over it now, anyways. 

 

Kiku makes his way into his kitchen and opens his fridge, eyeing the food in it with a critical eye. What’s low calorie, anyways? Vegetables, right? Sighing, Kiku pulls out a carrot and a head of cabbage, hoping those were healthy. He grabs a container of rice from his pantry, shuts his fridge, and starts cooking. First, the rice goes in the rice cooker. Then, Kiku slices the vegetables, using the entire carrot and about a quarter of the cabbage. Normally, he would have miso soup, egg, and rice for breakfast, but miso is high in sodium, and (if Kiku remembers right) eggs are high in fat. He finds himself wondering yet  _ again  _ why this isn’t easier as he sets a pan on the stove and turns it on, tossing the vegetables in. For a moment, Kiku considers adding soy sauce, but the thought of sodium stops him, and he stirs the pan with a pair of  _ saibashi,  _ (cooking chopsticks!) without any oil or liquid. His health  _ must  _ come first. 

 

It’s not long before his vegetables are soft and his rice cooker is beeping, and Kiku begins to plate his meal. He unceremoniously dumps the rice into a bowl and scoops the vegetables out of the hot pan and on top of his rice. Pulling out a pair of chopsticks, he walks back to his room and sits down at his computer. Eating at his desk has become a bit of a habit, but Kiku can’t deny the appeal of having the internet during his meals. There’s just something so nice about reading his favorite webpages or watching his favorite shows while he eats his favorite meals. Today, however, he’s looking up the calories in rice, cabbage, and carrots. As per usual, it doesn’t take much time at all for Kiku to find out that his rice is 200 calories, his carrot is 30 calories, and his cabbage is 40 calories. 270 calories in one meal; Kiku is quite proud. If he keeps this up, he’ll be at  _ less  _ than his goal by the end of the day. He eats three meals and a snack or two each day, and if each meal is less than 300 calories (and his snacks can be under 200), he’ll end up eating around 1100 calories, not 1500. Less is better when it comes to this, right?

 

Kiku swallows his last mouthful of rice, scribbles his meal and calorie counts in a notebook, and carries his dishes into the kitchen. He pauses as he sets his dishes in the sink. Salt! He forgot the sodium contents! Kiku rushes back to his desk and searches it up (he’s been searching quite a lot, hasn’t he?). In all, his meal had about 80mg; not much at all. He writes the numbers down and smiles. This is so  _ easy _ . At this rate, he’ll weigh 54.4 in what, a month? Actually, Kiku has no idea how long it’ll take. Frowning, he searches for another calculator; this time, a weight loss one. He enters in the data, and stares blankly at his screen. He scowls, faint despair rising within. With what he’s planning to eat, it’ll take  _ nineteen weeks  _ for him to reach his goal. That’s not okay! Kiku goes back to the calculator and changes the value of 1500 calories to 1100. That’ll be better, right?

 

Eleven weeks. That  _ is  _ better, but not by much. Why does this have to be so complicated and difficult? Kiku bites his lip and enters in 700 calories rather than 1100. It’s not like he would ever actually try that; it’s dangerous, right? And even so, it would take eight weeks. Less than half of nineteen. Kiku shakes his head violently. That’s dangerous; he can’t do that. It would be a very bad idea. Which is why Kiku  _ totally  _ isn’t considering trying it. One week, to test it out, couldn’t hurt, right? If it made him sick, he’d stop, no harm done. Plus, 700 isn’t really that low. In fact, Kiku tells himself, 700 is quite a lot. Yes, 700 will be just fine. To be extra safe though, Kiku doesn’t scratch out the 1500 written on his plan. No, 700 will be his guideline, and 1500 his absolute limit. He doesn’t think he could stand waiting even  _ longer  _ than 19 weeks, so he must not exceed 1500, no matter what. 

 

Yes, this would work. Kiku smiles and sighs gently, stretching his arms and back. No need to fret, no need to make a fuss. He has this perfectly under control; just a little weight loss, that’s all. He isn’t taking it overboard, isn’t hurting himself. 700 is practically a feast compared to what people with  _ problems  _ would limit themselves to. No, Kiku is just starting a diet. He’ll stop it when he reaches 54.4 kilos, no problem. Which is exactly why Kiku should start on those thirty minutes of exercise. What is he going to do...? Kiku thinks for a moment, and decides on going for a walk. Easy, doable, and it’ll let him see some of the places in his land that maybe he hasn’t seen before. Kiku stands up, and walks out his bedroom door, a nearly undetectable smile on his face. Today, he supposes, is day 1. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kiku is  _ very  _ pleased. Today is day 8- a week has passed since he started this diet. And it’s so  _ easy _ ! 700 calories is no struggle, none at all, and Kiku’s seeing results already. He steps off the scale, a smile on his face. 61.9 kilos (136.5 lbs)- he’s lost a lot! Kiku knows from his reading that most of it isn’t fat weight, but that doesn’t matter to him. Weight is weight, right? 

 

Right now, it’s lunch time, and  _ wow  _ is Kiku  _ hungry _ . He shakes his head. No, that won’t do him any good. Hunger becomes thin if he’s patient. Either way, this is when he normally eats lunch, 1:00 pm, so he can fix himself something small. It’s only been a week, but Kiku knows what he’s doing now. No rice, no oil, no sweets; lots of vegetables, lots of unsalted fish, lots of small fruits; lots of walking, lots of sit ups, lots of running. He’s practically a master of dieting at this point! He opens his fridge and pulls out a container of leftover vegetables- daikon, carrots, cabbage, and potatoes, boiled instead of pan fried. He knows the whole container is just under 200 calories, and just under 180 mg of sodium because he ate half of it yesterday, and he had been extra sure to measure everything right. Most of the calories are from the potato, but he likes potatoes, so he’s willing to eat it anyways. 

 

He puts the container in his microwave and waits, rather impatiently, for his meal. He’s just pulling the (hot) container of of the microwave when his phone rings, startling him nearly enough to drop the food. Nearly. Instead of making a mess, he sets the container down and takes his phone out of his pocket, answering it without looking at who is calling.

 

“ _ Hello? _ ” A rather distorted voice with a rather german accent tells Kiku pretty much immediately who’s calling him.

 

“Hello, Ludwig-kun.” Kiku smiles faintly. He had been debating calling Ludwig for the past few days, always opting to wait.

 

“ _ You don’t need to be formal with me, you know that. I was wondering if you would like to go out for drinks with Italy and I when you arrive in the USA tomorrow. _ ” Oh yes, that reminds Kiku- there’s a world meeting this weekend, and he’ll be in the USA tomorrow. Ish. His flight leaves tomorrow, but it’ll be a while before he’s actually there.

 

“Ah... Maybe the day after tomorrow? I do not think I will be arriving at a decent hour for drinks...” Kiku hesitates a bit, but he knows Ludwig will be understanding.

 

_ “Oh, my bad. I came in yesterday for some other business, so I’m already here, and Feliciano came with me. Yes, the day after tomorrow sounds good. You are staying at the same hotel as us, yes? _ ” Ludwig’s accent is reassuring, even over the phone.

 

“Hai. I believe that all of the nations involved will be staying there.” Kiku grimaces at the thought of being near some of the louder nations. How late will Alfred be making noise, anyways? Too late, probably. 

 

“ _ Great. I'll see you tomorrow then, and we can go out the day after. My apologies, but I have to get off the phone now. _ ” Ludwig sounds annoyed. Kiku dismisses the idea that it's his fault; more likely, Feliciano is making a fuss. 

 

“That's fine. I will see you tomorrow as well. Goodbye.” Kiku hears the  _ click  _ of his friend hanging up, and he sets his phone down. He's glad that Ludwig called him. He did miss his friends. 

 

Now, however, his priority is lunch. He opens the container of warm (no longer hot) vegetables and fishes his chopsticks out of a drawer, his stomach rumbling with anticipation. Ever since he has started this diet, everything seems to be so appetizing, so tasty, so  _ good _ . Weight loss aside, dieting is nearly worth it for how good it makes his food taste, even unseasoned vegetables. He starts eating right there, practically shovelling the food into his mouth. Not even chewing, it’s hardly even a minute before all of his lunch is gone, sitting warmly in his stomach. But he’s still so  _ hungry _ . A little more couldn’t hurt, right? 

 

Kiku stumbles over to the fridge, pulling it open and staring at its contents hungrily. What looks good... oh, fish! He pulls out the container and sniffs it, deeming it fresh enough. When had he made this? Last week? It was probably packed with salt. Kiku doesn’t move from the fridge, sticking his chopsticks into the fish with the door still open. He goes to take a bite, but pauses. Should he...? Ah, where’s the harm?

 

Kiku takes a bite, smiling a bit at the cool, salty taste. It’s been awhile since he tasted something this salty. He doesn’t hold back on his second bite, pressing his face to the edge of the tupperware and using his chopsticks to shovel the fish into his mouth, barely chewing. The fish is gone before he knows it, and he licks his lips hungrily, wishing there was more...

 

...of that incredibly salty and probably far too caloric fish. How much sodium in that? 1200 mg? More? What about the calories? Probably like 400. He’s already had 360 today, so that’d be too much. He can’t have that. He sets the empty container and his chopsticks on the counter shakily and shuts the fridge door, anxiety and nausea bubbling in his stomach. He really shouldn’t have done that. What if he gains weight? It’ll be that much longer before he’s where he wants to be. He stumbles back towards his bedroom, sliding into his desk chair and typing out a google search. 

 

The salmon was a whole filet. 466 calories. 2484 mg of sodium. Kiku feels sick. How could he do this to himself? He had been doing so well. Somewhere, faintly, he recalls that water is supposed to help reverse the effects of sodium. He gets up, heading back into his kitchen. He all but rips open a cabinet, pulling out a glass and filling it with water. When he drinks it, he has to hold it with both hands because he’s shaking so badly. 

 

He drinks one glass, and then another. Another, and a fourth. He can’t erase the feeling of heaviness, the taste of salt in his mouth. He chugs his seventh glass of water, his stomach starting to throb painfully. He goes for an eighth. He has to get rid of this sodium though, he has to- 

 

He’s going to puke. Kiku slams his glass down on the countertop and leans over the sink with tears in his eyes. His stomach roils and throbs, intense nausea choking him and making him cough. He screws his eyes shut and opens his mouth in anticipation. God, that water was a terrible idea. His stomach aches painfully, and he feels like he weighs a million pounds. He moves a hand to touch his stomach, and all it takes is one little press before he’s puking up water stained pink with flaky half digested salmon, chunks of half chewed potato, shreds of cabbage, daikon, carrot. It all comes out in a torrent, and Kiku wonders if this counts as making himself throw up. Probably not, seeing as he doesn’t really  _ want  _ this to be happening. Either way, it does, and Kiku coughs through the last gag, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Gross. 

 

He spits into the sink and turns the tap on, rinsing away the remnants of the salmon vomit and washing his hands. He reluctantly fills his glass with water- he should stay hydrated, and one glass won’t make him puke again. Instead of chugging it, he walks over to his couch and plops down, feeling weak. He takes a sip of the water and grimaces at the way his stomach flips over. Eugh. It feels like his stomach is burning slowly, and like his head is inside of a running washing machine. He sets the glass of water on the coffee table and rubs at his eyes. What are you supposed to do in times like this? Kiku wouldn't normally do this, but he kind of wants to call someone...

 

Who has medical knowledge? Kiku himself knows some, but not a ton. Alfred’s country is number 1 in medical technology, but as far as Kiku is aware, Alfred has never tried to learn anything, and the blond hasn’t been sick as far as Kiku is aware. Ever. Yao claims to know some stuff, but Kiku doesn't know if his knowledge is accurate, plus they’d argued last week and Kiku is  _ not  _ going to be the one to call Yao first. 

 

But, Arthur knows medicine, Kiku recalls. Hadn’t he talked about training to become a doctor around the time of the plague? Kiku remembers that conversation, with Francis asking if that knowledge was  _ really  _ still relevant, and Arthur getting quite angry and explaining how he’d kept it up to date over the years and he’s even down volunteer work in hospitals, thank you very much. Kiku smiles faintly at the memory. It wasn’t often that he got to be relaxed around people, but at the time he had been, and it was nice. 

 

Kiku fishes his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts, searching for- aha! Arthur’s name in his phone, Igirisu, is right there, and he clicks on it, tapping the call button before he can talk himself out of it. Wait, what time is it in England?

 

_ “Which twat thinks it’s a good idea to call me at five in the bloody morning?!”  _ Arthur’s voice is sleepy and pissed, even through the phone, and Kiku swallows nervously. 

 

“I apologize, Arthur-san, I forgot about the timezones.” There’s a long pause after Kiku’s response, and then Arthur lets out a soft sigh.

 

_ “No, it’s fine. I had to pick up some idiots from the airport two hours ago anyway. More importantly, are you alright? You don’t usually call unless there’s an emergency.”  _ Arthur doesn’t sound quite so annoyed as Kiku thinks over how to respond. He’s not okay, not really. He feels exhausted and sick, and a heavy guilt over that salmon is prickling in the back of his mind. 

 

“Ah, well, I am... not doing great.” Kiku feels awkward, uncomfortable. He’s imposing, being obnoxious, and Arthur probably wants him to go away and let him sleep. 

 

_ “What’s bothering you, lad? Are you sick?”  _ Arthur doesn’t  _ sound  _ annoyed... Kiku swallows and tries to come up with an answer that doesn’t reveal his diet. He doesn’t want Arthur to tell him to stop, and Kiku thinks that he is quite possibly taking it further than he should be. But, he doesn’t want Arthur to tell him that. 

 

“I, erm... I drank too much water and then I threw up?” Kiku covers his face with one hand. Too much information, Arthur’s going to think he’s gross. Gross. He kind of is, isn’t he?

 

There’s static and a pause.  _ “How much water, and how quickly did you drink it?”  _ Arthur’s voice is carefully neutral. Kiku assumes it’s because he told Arthur too much, but Arthur still wants to be polite. Kiku thinks back to the water.

 

“About three and a half liters, in... less than five minutes.” Kiku swallows. That’s a lot, but did he get all of the salmon up? The vegetables?

 

_ “Well, it’s no wonder you threw up. Your stomach probably still hurts something awful, I bet.”  _ There’s a slight pause, and when Arthur speaks again it’s softer, gentler.  _ “Why did you drink all of that so quickly?”  _ Ah. Kiku would have to explain.

 

“I had read that water can counteract eating too much sodium, and I had just eaten something very salty.” Kiku hopes that’s not too obvious. Is he being obvious? Probably. And he’s probably bothering Arthur, at least a little bit. 

 

_ “Having a little too much salt is better than making yourself sick. Next time, just have a glass or two and try not to eat so much salt the next day. As for now, you should probably have something to hydrate you, but don’t try chugging it. Fruit juice would be good, if you have it.”  _ Arthur still doesn’t sound annoyed, but he does sound sleepy and concerned.

 

“Thank you, Arthur-san. I will be sure to follow your advice.” Kiku doesn't know if he will though. Is two glasses of water really enough? Something about how he feels now, his stomach empty and cramping, is almost satisfying. He knows that at least some of his food is down the sink, not in his belly. 

 

_ “When you get in tomorrow, we should meet up for drinks or something of that sort.”  _ There’s a slight pause, yet again.  _ “Take care of yourself, alright? I’m about ready to fall asleep on the phone, so I need to say goodbye now, but don’t hesitate to call me if this happens again.”  _ Arthur yawns, audibly, and Kiku nods before he remembers he’s on the phone.

  
“Of course. Thank you, Arthur-san. I doubt that this will happen again, but I will call you if it does. Goodbye.” Kiku waits until he hears Arthur hang up before setting his phone down. Despite what he said to Arthur, Kiku knows that this probably won’t be the last time it happens. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Please leave a comment/kudos if you did :D


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